Chapter 25
“American cheese.”
“Obviously Jarlsberg.”
“Okay, but white toast.”
“Are you insane? Pumpernickel rye, at least.”
“Is that what this is?”
Ethan held up a clearly burnt piece of rye toast, already bitten, and sandwiching a slice of half-melted yellow processed cheese.
Gem let out what Ethan liked to call a pterodactyl laugh—loud, unselfconscious, a little shrieky—as she pushed him away half-heartedly.
They were sitting on the couch in her apartment, alone for once after her two roommates finally had plans that didn’t involve staying home and filling the sink with dirty dishes.
Ethan and Gem had just finished their shift at Kouzina, a rare occasion when they’d had the opportunity to work together, and had come back to Gem’s blissfully empty place, with the freedom to laugh loudly and watch what they liked and cook whatever they wanted without being mindful of the presence of others.
Things had been weird the past few months, with both of them too old for postgrad life, but still sort of floundering, seemingly unsure where they wanted to be or what they wanted to do.
Right now, though, when money for traveling to take photographs in exotic places was a pipe dream and money for paying rent was a necessity, Ethan was doing freelance photography, the occasional friend of a friend’s wedding or engagement photos, in addition to his part-time restaurant work, while Julia worked at the restaurant full-time and dreamed about the things she could do if she were able.
She seemed a little distracted tonight, both at work and now, even in the peace of a quiet apartment.
It wasn’t in the way they interacted with each other, which was always easy, but instead he noticed it in the long pauses.
The way she looked at a spot in the distance for too long, but then would demur when asked what was up or what she was thinking.
Or like how she burned the grilled cheese, which she had never done as long as he’d known her.
Maybe she wasn’t the greatest chef, but grilled cheese she was an expert on, from the portable stovetop days of her college dorm room. He wanted to ask, but also…
Also, he didn’t. For some reason, whatever she was thinking about—the information she was keeping close but letting him see glimpses of—he could just tell that it was monumental.
Life-changing. Somehow he knew that whatever it was, things would be different between them going forward.
And he wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t always predict what the future held, but he knew that he would be damned if he let things stray from the way they were or even change in any capacity.
Because she was the only good thing, the only certainty. The one absolutely sure thing he could count on in his life, which was going in a way he wasn’t crazy about, with no sign of veering off into a direction that made him feel good or worthy.
And he was afraid. Worried that whatever she was thinking about, whatever was going through her head, would change all of that.
So he didn’t ask. And her pauses got longer, her expressions more thoughtful. They sat and watched a movie, and sidelong glances at her told him she was staring at a spot just slightly above the television screen and not actually watching the movie for more than half of it.
When it was over, after an unusually quiet viewing experience, the grilled cheese sandwiches sitting cold and barely touched between them, Ethan found himself making an excuse to go, when normally it would be the opposite, finding a reason to stay, even to sleep on her couch, to eat her French toast in the morning and have a coffee with her and see her in the lambent sunlight of her small kitchen and think about how often he’d seen her in the mornings in his lifetime, how often he’d seen her with the sunrise.
But the urgency to leave before something happened, something changed, was too great, and he made an excuse about being tired and having a shoot in the morning and having to go.
“Why don’t you stay?” she asked, a bit surprised. “You can just leave from here?”
He could, he really could, and going home to his place, a studio much smaller than hers, but with no roommates to speak of, thank god, was infinitely less appealing than the scenario he had just envisioned moments ago, but he needed to break the spell somehow, so he shook his head.
“Nah, you know what? I really need to go home and change first.” She seemed to accept that, and he prided himself on coming up with it so quickly.
Grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair, he headed toward the door, and she followed him, walking him out. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned to her.
“All right, well—”
“Listen, can you hang on a second?”
Fuuuuuuck. He had been so close. So fucking close. One foot out the door, literally, and she’d caught him anyway, stopped him to tell the news, whatever news it was, that was going to be the rail switch to his life.
“There’s something I wanted to tell you.
” Julia took a deep breath before continuing, fingers toying with the edge of her sleeve.
Ethan waited with bated breath, already feeling the dread wash over him and then admonishing himself for thinking so negatively, for feeling like things were so dire.
For all he knew, she was going to say she was getting a cat.
Buying a new refrigerator. Wanted his opinion on some guy she’d met on an app—the dread consumed him again at that last thought. Then she spoke:
“Your parents…they made me an offer.”
The absurd sentence hovered between them, as though the silence would clarify. When elaboration didn’t come, Ethan, brow furrowed, prompted, “An offer?”
Julia nodded, her voice steady but hesitant. “They said…if I wanted to, I could have the cottage.”
Another loaded silence. The gears turned rustily in Ethan’s head, trying to process what Julia was saying. The cottage? Their summer retreat? The cottage by the lake?
“They’d sell it to me for practically nothing so I could turn it into a…well, something.” He saw her courage flounder, then watched as she straightened herself, took a deep breath, and said with more certainty, “A bed-and-breakfast.”
The words hung in the air between them, weighty and fragile all at once. “They said it felt right—like it was meant to be more than just an old summer house gathering dust.”
The words stung, though Ethan knew they were true.
It had been years since he had been up there, especially now that they were no longer in Buffalo and instead had gone away for school in New York City, and the drive had gone from under two hours to almost six.
It wasn’t like everyone was gung ho to drive up to the lake, either, during their winter break visits home.
It wasn’t like there had been that many winter break visits home.
In a way, Ethan had always known it was inevitable—that one day the cottage would be either saved or lost entirely.
But he hadn’t expected Julia to be the one to decide.
Yes, she had always been part of the family in ways that had little to do with blood.
His parents had treated her like a daughter from the very beginning, especially on the heels of so many pregnancy attempts and losses.
But he was their son. Had they not even thought to consider where he stood in all this?
After all the time and effort he had put into keeping them together, ensuring that those summers at the cottage actually happened, that everyone was having fun, that the wine was imbibed within moderation, and that his parents had gotten time to themselves to enjoy their space while he took Julia off on adventures and made the most of each day.
Julia. Gem.
Her being a part of the cottage’s future felt inevitable.
But not at the expense of his own role. The thought of her taking on the old place—of her pouring herself into it—made something in his chest go tight.
Yes, the cottage deserved better than to crumble into memory, he knew that. And he knew she could give it that.
He just didn’t know what that meant for him.
Ethan blinked. “They just decided that? Out of the blue?”
“Well, no,” she said quickly. “They said they were going to talk to you about it, too. To tell you what their thoughts were. I think they figured…” She shook her head, not completing her thought.
“They wanted to make sure I was on board first, that I would accept it, before letting you know their plan. I think they thought, maybe”—she hesitated again, then persevered this time—“maybe if we both wanted it, we could even take it on together.” Her sharp intake of breath was the only hint at the nerves that roiled beneath.
“Ultimately,” she continued resolutely, “they’d rather see it cared for than let it keep falling apart. And they think I could help do it.”
He let out a breath, a small, disbelieving laugh, the words landing like a sucker punch. “They think you could do it. Just like that.”
Julia hesitated, likely picking up on his tone, knowing he sounded strangled and unable to get himself in check. Her fingers continued to play with a loose thread on her sleeve.
“Well, they did also say…” she continued, and he hated himself for the slight nervous quaver in her voice even as anger roiled somewhere deep inside him. “They also think you’d help me.”
Oh, great. So he could be her assistant.
Ethan the Dumbass, set to be Julia’s slave.
That was what his parents thought he could do best—be the help.
No matter how often he had gone out of his way to prove himself, they would never see him as more than the goofy hockey-playing kid who was the foil to Julia’s perfect, intelligent, calm centeredness.
A sharp edge crept into his voice. “Help you?” He shifted forward, studying her face. “So, what? They’re expecting me to…just drop everything? Move back and play the charming groundskeeper for your little B-and-B dream?”